


Of the insubstantial line

by Reremouse (TheBelfry)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Chocolate, Doctors, Humor, Inimitable seduction, Logic, M/M, Plays fast and loose with canon, Vulcans, captains who were raised in barns, smug bastards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 22:58:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2086323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBelfry/pseuds/Reremouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which chocolate has an unusual effect on Vulcan physiology, and Spock regrets indulging.  McCoy is stubborn, and Jim is as subtle as always.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of the insubstantial line

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SavoyTruffle, the only Star Trek fan who could possibly induce me to write Star Trek Fic. But I have no regrets. My canon compliance is largely down to watching TOS reruns for the last 35 years and the first reboot exactly once. Character versions are open to interpretation as it pleases the reader.

It was never his choice to be exotic. Granted, it was never his choice to be an endangered species either but there are times when it is the exotic appellation which gets under his skin the most.

Because humans are unfortunately curious creatures. And certain of them are more disinclined than others to be dissuaded.

"Thank you again, doctor, for your concern, but it is unwarranted."

"You're trying to tell me this is just another of those Vulcan things?"

"It is."

"Then I think it's something I ought to know about as this ship's doctor."

"If it was a danger to the performance of my duties or the safety of this ship, it would be." Spock stops at the door to his quarters, the one line McCoy appears unwilling - as yet - to cross. "I assure you it is not."

"Now look here, you pointy-eared little - "

There is more, of course, but with a physical barrier between them, Spock finds it possible to ignore the words as well as McCoy's insatiable, insufferable, incessant curiosity. In matters which don't concern him. And won't, if he has anything to say about it.

He dims the lights and stretches out on his bed. Assuring Leonard McCoy of his health and well-being is unexpectedly draining.

He wonders if it's something he can become accustomed to.

 

 

"So, this sniffing thing."

Unfortunately, a closed door to private quarters has never hindered James Kirk - who lacks any notion of privacy and decency whatsoever. Also unfortunately, McCoy knows it. "I believe I have given my report of the incident, Captain."

"Sure. All two sentences of it."

"It won't happen again."

"Spock." Kirk sits on the edge of his bed, concerned, compassionate and utterly uninvited. "You blamed it on chocolate."

"I believe I also stated that chocolate is a known intoxicant. Had I known its effects were so pronounced, I would not have...indulged myself."

"You ate a _cookie_."

"As I said, Captain." Spock hopes he will go away, but hope has never moved James T. Kirk so much as an inch. It takes considerably more force and effort than Spock is interested in expending right now. So he endures.

Fortunately, Kirk seems willing to sit in silence and consider the implications for the moment. Unfortunately, he's considering the implications Spock does not wish to discuss. "I don't think he minded."

"That is irrelevant, Captain."

"He's just worried about you." Kirk apparently rethinks this, "Or curious. One of those two."

"There's nothing for him to be concerned about." There is plenty for him to be curious about, though, but Spock leaves it unsaid. "Is that all, Captain?"

"You told him it was none of his business."

"With all due respect, it isn't. Sir."

"Spock," Kirk says again, "He's the one you sniffed."

 

 

McCoy greets him with: "You always go around sniffing strange men?"

"Not always," Spock says and stamps on the small impulse to follow it with something along the lines of saving it for special occasions.

"You save it for special occasions huh?"

Perhaps if Spock stares at him long enough, he'll change the subject.

"Get a sense of humor, will you?"

It will do.

"Vulcans have a highly refined sense of humor, Doctor."

"Sure you do," McCoy agrees in that way he has that means he doesn't agree at all and wants to make sure you know it. "You have a sense of humor and you don't go around sniffing strange men."

Spock would be grateful when the doors whoosh open before them but he's resigned to the fact that McCoy will simply follow him through them.

McCoy does.

"Bridge." They turn and face the doors.

"Do you consider yourself a strange man?" Spock asks the door because it seems there is no escaping the subject on a ship of this size and he is not inclined to futility.

"Ah ha! You admit sniffing me!"

Spock spares a glance for the finger pointed accusingly at him. "I believe there are witnesses," he tells it. "It would be illogical to deny it."

"Well was that so hard to admit?" McCoy has no need to be on the bridge so of course that's where he's going, right behind Spock.

"What purpose does it serve for me to admit it?" He asks the atmospheric conditions on the planetoid they've been orbiting for days now. Long enough for the humans to look within the ship for their excitement. The atmospheric conditions, sadly, remain entirely inhospitable to man or Vulcan.

"I don't know." McCoy's huff of breath tickles the hairs at the nape of Spock's neck. "Satisfaction, I guess."

"Whose satisfaction?"

"Oh, it's all mine." He does sound satisfied. He also backs away enough to let Spock stand up without knocking their heads together.

"Are we done with the subject then?" Spock takes the opportunity to turn and lean back against the reassuring bulk of the console.

McCoy looks as satisfied as he sounds and Spock finds it profoundly disturbing. "Not by a long shot, Mr. Spock."

 

 

Spock is fortunate to have a Vulcan constitution--there's not much that puts him off his food. When McCoy finds him again at dinner, Spock deals with the situation by continuing to eat.

"Would it kill you to try the meatloaf?" McCoy observes. He's not sarcastic, only curious and impressively intrusive.

Spock vaguely wonders if its a trait common to the medical profession and allows his eyebrow to do the answering for him.

It takes more than an eyebrow to dissuade Leonard McCoy. "Or is it just a fussy cultural thing?" McCoy is eating the meatloaf.

"I believe the medical profession has long since established the risks red meat present to the human cardiovascular system," Spock non-answers.

"Sure, but until they find a way to make it stop tasting so damn good, I'll keep eating it." He does. "Pass the salt.

Spock does.

"While it is possible that my body retains the vestigial ability to digest meat, doctor, I see no reason to put that particular question to the test when sustenance is readily available from sources which do not cause harm to sentient beings."

"You ever met a cow?"

"Once."

McCoy stabs another piece of meatloaf into his mouth. "You Vulcans have a pretty liberal view of sentience. You know that?"

"It has been noted," Spock finds himself admitting. "A time or two."

"Cows." McCoy snorts.

His choice of chocolate silk pie does not go unnoticed. Nor does his offer of a bite of the pie to Spock.

Clearly, Leonard McCoy is not a creature of subtlety.

 

 

Nor a creature of logic. In fact, he seems to have a compulsion for illogical behavior and thought.

"I fail to see how further indulging myself will be of medical benefit."

"It's an undocumented reaction, Spock. For all we know, it could be dangerous." McCoy and his box of chocolates are not dissuaded.

"And so you would have me loose this possibly dangerous reaction on an unsuspecting ship to satisfy your curiousity."

"Not the ship," McCoy says, grabbing his arm uninvited as is his habit, and sitting him down on a cot in sick bay. "Just me."

"Controlled circumstances," Spock clarifies.

"That's right." McCoy drops the box onto the bed next to him and folds his arms. "Now eat your damn chocolate."

"And what if I don't?"

"Then I'll hold you down and shove it down your uncooperative throat."

It seems, rather, that they have reached an impasse.

"I don't believe that would be a good idea."

McCoy stabs a finger at the chocolate. "Eat."

"I hardly - "

"Ah!" The finger raises in forestallment.

"Doctor - "

"Mm!"

It comes as a surprise that McCoy is more articulate when he foregoes words entirely. He's certainly more difficult to argue with.

"This won't end well."

"Shut up and chew."

 

 

In hindsight, it comes as no surprise to Spock to find himself in this position.

What is surprising is the position Spock finds McCoy in and the determined grip McCoy has on his hair. He would comment, perhaps, that he himself is under the influence and what is McCoy's excuse? But his mouth is otherwise occupied.

McCoy's mouth, on the other hand, is free to say things like, "Jim! What can I do for you?"

Spock chokes.

And McCoy's hand holds him right where he is under the lip of the table the good doctor is leaning on.

The tall one. With a solid back.

McCoy is apparently either more skilled at planning or more foolhardy than previously suspected.

Well, then. McCoy can't say Spock didn't warn him and at this moment in time, his mind doesn't seem to be lodging any protests with the current course of action. In fact, Spock sees no reason to stop sliding the length of Leonard McCoy into his throat.

Kirk's, "Are you all right, Bones?"

And McCoy's somewhat more strained, "Just fine! What do you need Jim?"

Are irrelevant concerns because McCoy smells irresistible and charmingly attempts not to gasp when Spock squeezes a buttock.

"Are you _sure_ you're okay?"

"Damn it, Jim! I'm just fine. Now what the hell do you want?"

"The report you pulled on the - you don't look fi - "

"It's right there Now take it and don't let the door hit your ass on the way out!"

"You - "

"Out!" And, "Computer, lock the damn door."

And then Spock finds himself manhandled out from under the table and tumbling onto a cot on top of a half dressed McCoy who's quite the multitasker, kicking off his pants and throwing a leg over Spock's shoulder. Giving orders. "And put your back into it!"

"I believe I outrank you, doctor," Spock says, finding his trousers solicitously opened for him.

"Fine. Then put your back into it, _sir_."

Spock's body and mind have no apparent objections.

He puts his back into it.

And somewhere in the litany of curses beneath him is McCoy's approval.

 

 

"Didn't know it was true," McCoy says, fishing under a table for his shirt, "that rumor that Vulcans can breathe through their ears."

"Merely an illusion." Spock tugs his shirt down into place. A part of him wants to feel awkward at this moment with the taste of one Leonard McCoy intimately on his tongue but as they do happen to be two consenting adults of their species who have no need for awkwardness in each others' presence, it would be illogical.

And he reminds that small but vocal part of him that this is the situation.

In any case, he refuses to be the one behaving awkwardly when McCoy has gone right back to being an admirable example of his irascible self. "How bout that rumor Vulcans are just about irresistible to humans?"

Spock glances at him over his shoulder. "That one is true."

"Bullshit."

"You feel the evidence is inconclusive, Doctor?"

"Well it's a pretty damn small data set if you ask me."

Spock raises an eyebrow. It seems appropriate to do so.

"All right. Bad choice of words."

"Would you care to rephrase them?"

"No I would not care to rephrase them."

Spock is carefully not looking at him when he says, "Would you care to repeat the experience then? Perhaps without the chocolate this time."

"Hallelujah. I was starting to worry that big brain of yours wouldn't ever catch on."

"Is that a yes?" Spock asks, if only to irritate McCoy.

"Oh, for god's sake. Yes! Now get out of my sick bay. I've got work to do." McCoy pops a chocolate into his mouth and shoos Spock out the door with both hands.

 

 

Spock tastes chocolate in McCoy's mouth when he finds himself cornered and kissed outside the engine room.

"And you're _not_ irresistible," McCoy informs him.

"No?"

"That's right."

Spock lets the expression on his face speak for him. He's not entirely sure he possesses the words.

"My standards are low. That's all."

"Very well, Doctor."

"Good. Glad we've got that straightened out."

"Was there anything else?"

"There sure was." A hand curls possessively around the back of Spock's neck and McCoy is remarkably casual when he says, "I want to see you in my quarters at nineteen-hundred."

"And you're certain I'll be there."

"Damn right I am. There's no way your Vulcan punctuality's going to let you out of it either."

Spock has to admit McCoy has him there. Or would if he had any particular objection to accepting the invitation.

"And don't be late," is McCoy's parting shot on his way into the engine room to -

Ah, yes. Harangue Cadet Morgan about reporting _all_ interactions with alien life forms, condom or no.

"Bridge," Spock says before the doors close.

 

 

"So, Spock..."

"Sir?"

"Uh - what effect _does_ chocolate have on Vulcan physiology?"

"As near as I can tell, Captain, none whatsoever."

"Excuse me?"

"It does, however, have an effect on human physiology. As a Vulcan, the change is simply more noticeable."

"And so this whole sniffing thing..."

"He does smell good," Spock admits.

"O-kay."

"And the other - " he gestures vaguely.

As it is Spock's job to make the informed guesses, he does, "Incident in sick bay, sir?"

"Oh, thank god I wasn't imagining things."

Spock neither confirms nor denies; it's Jim's job to leap to conclusions after all. He's very good at it. "I did warn him, but his curiosity got the best of him."

"Is it satisfied now?"

"I hope not."

Kirk's mouth opens - and closes again as this conversation becomes one of the few in which James T. Kirk thinks before speaking. Eventually, he concludes. "That's - good. That's good."

"Will that be all, Captain?"

"Ah - yes. You know, I'm afraid to ask any more questions just yet."

"Very well. I'll be - "

Kirk holds up a hand.

Spock holds up an eyebrow.

"Oh, all right. Say it."

"Indisposed."

Kirk sighs. "Right. Have fun. Don't frighten the livestock."

"Excuse me?"

The Captain waves him away with the expression of the only man in the conversation who got the joke. "Ask Bones."

 

 

"Do you think we frightened the livestock?"

"Unless you've got a sheep stashed somewhere about your person, I damn well hope not." Leonard checks him over, nonetheless. Perhaps for sheep.

"No sheep," Spock assures him.

"Cows? Chickens? Goats?"

Spock favors him with a patient eyebrow.

Leonard falls back onto the bed and tucks his arms behind his head. "Then no we did not frighten the damn livestock."

"It might be fun," Spock offers after some consideration, "to try if the opportunity presented itself."

"You got a kink I don't know about?" He closes his eyes, as if the answer doesn't matter much either way.

"Merely a starship officer's yen for adventure."

"Kinky bastard," Leonard accuses him anyway.

Spock sees no point in refuting it.

"I find myself in good company."

"And what's wrong with that?"

Spock gives it a moment's thought and concedes, "Absolutely nothing." And then, after some further consideration, "Were you ever actually concerned about the possible effects of chocolate in regards to my physiology?"

Leonard keeps his eyes closed and says, "Wouldn't say 'concerned' exactly."

"Mm," Spock says.

"You've got a dirty mind, Mr. Spock."

"I do believe you intended to seduce me all along."

"I didn't say a dirty mind's always _wrong_." Leonard cracks open an eye. "And you're not half as smart as they say either if it took you this long to figure that out anyway."

"Smugness doesn't suit you, Doctor."

"Bullshit. I was born to be smug," he says. Smugly.

"And if I said I figured out your plan in the beginning and knew it all along?"

"I wouldn't believe a word you said."


End file.
